


Sifting through my fingers

by faithful_lie



Series: Yoongi, I'm sorry... [2]
Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gang World, Angst, Blood, Gang Violence, Gift, I cried writing this, I'm Sorry, Injury, Kinda, M/M, Suicide, Violence, counsellor namjoon, healthcare assistant yoongi, inspired by edits, suicide aftermath, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 06:08:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7032376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithful_lie/pseuds/faithful_lie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Taehyung is in a gang, Yoongi is a healthcare assistant in an ED and Namjoon is a pseudo youth counsellor cum matchmaker.</p><p>Or                                             </p><p>Namjoon ruins Yoongi’s life when he introduces him to Taehyung.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sifting through my fingers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [King Yoongi](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=King+Yoongi).



> This is a gift for the amazing King Yoongi who's edits are crazy inspiring <3  
> Specifically inspired by this video; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n3XfZzKLs5s
> 
> Warnings are tagged.
> 
> Read on aff;  
> http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1132489/

 

“I’m not a good person, hyung.”

He said it the first time I met him. He sounded anxious, his eyes flickering past me nervously to Namjoon standing behind me. I knew it was him that had told the kid to call me hyung, but that didn’t matter right now. I didn’t know how to respond to what he'd said. It’s okay? That’s not true? I’d only just met the kid and I swallowed my words. He didn't look like a bad person, in fact, he was quite beautiful; like a china doll, fragile and ageless. Eyes wide and strangely hopeful. Namjoon laid a hand on my shoulder and filled the silence with his own words instead. _Yoongi hyung isn’t going to judge you, Tae._ I tried so hard to make that true.

 

Every time I saw him, he was always suspended in the same restless state. Highly strung perhaps, but there was something about the way Namjoon addressed him, tone soft but with an alien edge of… something close to respect, that made me wonder if he perhaps had reason to be so on edge all the time. Maybe.

 

I never expected to see him at work. But I did. His fingers sliced to ribbons and alcohol on his breath when he dragged himself into the ED. _You’re too young to drink._ I couldn’t help but think as his torn and bloody fingers fisted in the front of my scrubs. The lazy light of recognition lit in his dull eyes just before he fainted. I barely caught him, yelling for help immediately as I lowered his limp form to the floor. Suddenly I was surrounded by people. I’m used to it but all that I could think was that it was Taehyung. Ever anxious _Taehyung_.

_I’m not a good person, hyung._

His words from when I first met him rung in my ear as a nurse checked his airway and I yanked up his t-shirt – it was soaked with blood.

“Kid’s been stabbed.” I said on autopilot, already digging out my scissors to cut through the fabric.

_Why is it Taehyung?_

I tried not to stare at the multitude of bruises on his skin. New and old. What the hell happened to him?

 

I couldn’t tell Namjoon. I couldn’t violate patient confidentiality so I couldn’t tell him that Taehyung had come in, and in such a state. Instead I waited anxiously for the inevitable text.

A second boy had come running in not long after Taehyung collapsed, face pale, hands equally bloody and huge shadows under his eyes. He’d identified himself as ‘Hoseok’ and point blank refused to give a surname for himself or for Taehyung. I had never been told so I wasn’t much use on that front either.

Shortly after arriving, Hoseok vomited on his own feet, having caught sight of Taehyung’s abdomen. Admittedly, we hadn’t yet managed to move the kid out of the main lobby and he was bleeding on the floor, but still… Fantastic. I quickly manoeuvred Hoseok into a chair in case he passed out too, asking if he was hurt but he wouldn’t answer any more questions. Not from me at least.

 

At home, I lay despondent on the couch, waiting for Namjoon to contact me. Taehyung came round in resus and I just _knew_ that word would get to Namjoon. And that the police would probably get involved. Two kids turn up in the ED covered in blood, one seriously injured. I couldn’t see any other way for it to go down.

My phone buzzed. I fumbled for it, almost dropping it on my own face in my haste.

“Hyung…” Namjoon sounded tired with just a hint of annoyance. I felt my stomach tighten from that alone.

“Just tell me, Namjoon.”

“I know you know. He told me so. He won’t tell me what happened.” He sighed heavily. “That kid… Yoongi hyung, I don’t think I can save him.” I went cold all over. I’d never heard Namjoon sound like this. He sounded so hopeless. It was out of character.

“Namjoon, what are you talking about?” I sat up quickly, suddenly shivering. “What do you mean?”

“Yoongi…” I didn’t reprimand him for not addressing me correctly – there were more pressing matters at hand. “This is a _gang_ thing. He won’t go to the police and the blood on his hands was all either Hoseok’s or his own. This isn’t going anywhere. I should have told you before but he wouldn’t have trusted me.” I was speechless, I couldn’t bring together my vague ideas of gang culture and the skinny, antsy teen in my mind. I hung up and switched my phone off.

_But it made sense._

This explained the nervousness, the way his eyes never held my gaze for more than a few seconds, the cryptic answers to every question I threw at him. _Taehyung is in a gang._ Or associated with a gang. Or something. I closed my eyes, dropped my head into my hands.

_Namjoon, what are you doing?_

 

Taehyung could see the distrust in my eyes. I couldn’t look at him the same.

“It wasn’t Hoseok.” He said, voice low and hesitant, the next time Namjoon brought him round. I nodded but said nothing and Namjoon sent me a dirty look as the kid recoiled into himself. His eyes were on Namjoon when he continued speaking. “I-I should go. I’m no longer welcome here.” He started to stand and I remembered the reassurance that Namjoon gave to him when we first met. _Yoongi hyung isn’t going to judge you, Tae._ I was doing a pretty poor job of living up to that.

I swallowed, seeing the defeated slope of the kid’s shoulders, the way he cringed in pain as he hauled his long body up and I stood, grabbing him by the wrist.

“No, I’m sorry.” I began, moving round so that I could meet his eyes, raising his head with my free hand when he refused to look at me. “Taehyung, I’m sorry for what happened to you. But I… It’s hard to trust you when you won’t tell us anything.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He muttered. “I deserved it.” The chill ran the entire length of my body and I subconsciously tightened my grip on his wrist before hurriedly releasing it when he whined; his hands weren’t fully healed yet.

“Don’t you ever say something like that again!” I scolded him, surprised by the sudden edge to my voice, by the sheer amount of emotions that built up behind those words. _Dammit, I actually care about what happens to him._ I could have slapped him. “Sit down.” I sighed, helping him back down onto the couch and kneeling in front of him. There were fresh tears brimming in his eyes.

“What hyung means to say is we care about you.” Namjoon said from his seat on the other sofa. I glared at him over my shoulder but he just winked in response. I turned back to Taehyung, resting my hands on his knees since attempting to hold his hands would only hurt him.

“Will you tell us what happened to you?” He hesitated, then spoke so softly I had to ask him to repeat himself.

“It was just a fight.” I honestly didn’t know what to say to that. “Hyung just-”

“Your _hyung_ did this to you?” I interrupted, voice laced with disbelief. “What kind of-”

“Yoongi.” Namjoon’s voice was low, his tone one of warning. So I bit back the words that wanted to escape and resigned myself to listening to Taehyung.

 

Apparently he’d been sparring. He didn’t seem to think that any of this wasn’t normal and I’d found myself drawing back from him subconsciously, full of horror and… sorrow… How could he fail to see what had happened to him?

In the end I left the room. Stiff backed, face completely blank. The only other option was breaking down in front of the both of them. Namjoon took him home. Or at least I assume that’s what he did, because when I woke up from my impromptu nap hours later, I was home alone.

It was late, starting to get dark out as I sat up on my bed. I couldn’t bring myself to turn on the lights, so I trudged through my apartment in the gloom, mind filled with Taehyung’s low voice, the dull look in his eyes as he told us what his hyung had done. How a regular play fight had evolved into something more. The resigned tone of his voice haunted me. It was like he expected to be treated this way.

The remainder of the day was spent in silent contemplation in the dark.

 

A few days later, someone knocked on my door just after I arrived home from work, in fact I was only just hanging up my coat.

I turned back confused, pulling the door open without even checking who it was. I was faced with Taehyung, fidgeting a little as he shifted from foot to foot.

“Uhm, hi hyung,” he said, scratching his head a little awkwardly, “I, uh, couldn’t find Namjoon hyung and I thought of you...” For the first time, a tiny smile twitched the corners of his lips up. It was kinda cute and I found myself holding my door open for him and inviting him in before I’d even truly thought about it. He stepped past me and immediately curled up in the corner of my couch, drawing his legs up and staring at me over them with wide eyes as I followed him into the living room, his hair a mess.

“Tae,” I began. He jumped the slightest bit, and so I lowered my voice before continuing. “Have you eaten?” He shook his head, teeth worrying his bottom lip. “Okay well, let me just change into some more comfortable clothes and then I’ll cook for you, if you want.”

Cooking for him turned out to be really fun, surprisingly. He was a culinary disaster it seemed, not that I was letting him do much with his hands still healing. He hovered behind me, watching over my shoulder and asking constant questions, occasionally knocking something over.

I questioned if he actually knew anything about cooking at all; I was just making simple spaghetti bolognese and yet he seemed completely lost.

“Taehyung, how old are you?” I asked after a particularly dumb question, by my standards at least.

“Oh, hyung never told you?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “I’m eighteen.”

“Seriously?” He didn’t look any age really, the fear often on his face made him look younger, vulnerable, but his tired and worn demeanour aged him endlessly. I don’t even know what I would have guessed had he not told me.

“Yes!” He responded eagerly, bumping into me as he nodded emphatically. “And how about you, hyung?”

“Twenty one.”

He was like a different person when he wasn’t constantly worrying about something. I’d started to see the ever watchful gang member slip away and I could see the childish and playful Taehyung hidden underneath. I was finally able to see what it was Namjoon saw in him, the person he was trying to bring out. It was refreshing and I smiled wide as I watched him eating my food. He looked like he rarely ate a full meal, so thin and lanky. Although, I wasn't much better in that respect.

My mood actually dropped when I finally said goodbye to him, needing to get enough sleep before tomorrow’s shift.

 

Namjoon couldn’t have been happier that Taehyung and I were bonding. He was finding every excuse to bring Taehyung over.

_His dressings need looking at._

_We should watch a film together._

_He looks up to you._

_He’s happier around you._

My chest tightened at that last one. But I could see it too. He wouldn’t let us draw him away from the gang he was well and truly tangled up in, but he’d pretend with us. Pretend that his life didn’t revolve around questionable activities. Activities that I knew far too little about.

It was a fun game but it couldn’t last.

 

He turned up at my door one day with the beginnings of a black eye, constantly glancing back over his shoulder. I tugged him inside without a word, pushing him into the living room and following in his wake. The way he winced as he lowered himself onto the couch told me that a black eye wasn’t all that he’d suffered.

“Oh Tae,” I breathed as I sank down beside him, “wanna tell hyung about it?” He shook his head, tongue flickering out to wet his lips as he gingerly leant back into the cushions. “Okay then. Do you want to watch a film or something?”

He nodded, so I put on something suitably inane, sitting closer than before when I crossed back to the couch. He pulled me closer still, long arms wrapping around me. I jumped a little, not at all used to this level of affection from any of my friends, but I made no attempt to move away. The sudden sensation of liquid against my skin when he buried his face in my neck told me that he was crying.

I relaxed back in his hold; he clearly needed this. I made a decision that from then on I wouldn’t ask him about what was going anymore – I’d just listen if he decided to tell me something.

I would hold onto what little trust he had in me.

 

He turned up on my doorstep like that once more. This time the bruise was on his cheekbone and his fringe was plastered to his face by the sweat beading on his forehead. There was a worrying stain on his t-shirt and the knees had been torn out of his jeans. Recently, judging by the dried blood on his skin. He was covered in mud, on his hands, his clothes, even his face.

“You should shower.” I said as I pulled him inside. He said nothing in return, just standing in my tiny hallway with his head bowed, fingers fiddling with the hem of his soiled t-shirt. I nudged him further in so I could close the door and then urged him to remove his shoes and enter the apartment proper. He seemed… reluctant. So I grabbed his hand and tugged him to my bedroom.

He'd never been in there and he gazed around curiously as I rummaged around for the clothes Namjoon had left behind last time he stayed here; nothing of mine would fit Taehyung. Our height difference was far too drastic for that. “Ah ha!” I exclaimed, finding them buried beneath everything else in the bottom of my chaotic wardrobe. The kid flinched and stumbled back, before recovering quickly. I didn't comment.

He gazed mutely at the clothes I bundled into his arms, but let me tug him back through my apartment all the same. I pulled a spare towel out of the bathroom cupboard and and handed him that as well. Then I grabbed the the first aid kit to take out with me.

“Shower.” I commanded and then went to retrieve my phone from the coffee table, before slumping down on the living room floor to text Namjoon, dumping the first aid kit by the table.

 

To: [Joon]

He turned up beat up again

 

To: [Yoongs]

Tae?

 

To: [Joon]

Who else :/

 

To: [Yoongs]

Is he okay?

 

To: [Joon]

…I don't know… I made him shower… I'll update you…

 

To: [Yoongs]

Please.

 

I put my phone down and rolled onto my back, laying an arm across my eyes. _What is this kid doing?_ I knew with awful certainty from prior experience that Taehyung would not tell me what had happened, nor who the perpetrators were. And it hurt. It hurt that he wouldn't speak to us. A tiny little voice in the back of my mind piped up – maybe it wasn't that he wouldn't, but that he couldn't. Regardless, I would stick to the promise I'd made to myself. I'd wait until he told me.

He never had the chance.

I sat up and peeled my eyes back open when I heard the soft tread of his footsteps approaching. He hovered in the doorway, towel slung around his neck and dark hair dripping. He looked pale, peaky, but that was nothing new.

Namjoon’s clothes hung off him, too loose, but that was mostly because that was how Namjoon wore them. I'd noticed before that he and Taehyung were actually quite similar in height and build. To my eyes at least.

I smiled.

“Come in, Tae.” I shuffled on my knees to reach the first aid kit and then gestured for him to sit on the sofa so I could take a proper look at him. He perched on the edge and gazed at me with those wide, dark eyes. “Let me see your knees.” He leant forwards and slowly pulled the trousers up, one leg at a time. It was a good thing they were loose on him – that made things easier. I tried not to react to the very dark, very large, and very obvious purple bruises on his shins but, despite my job, I think he still noticed.

“Why do you have clothes big enough for me?” He asked in a low voice as I glanced at each knee in turn. He'd done a good job of cleaning the huge scrapes.

“They're Namjoon’s.” He nodded, gave a small smile. “I'm gonna put antiseptic on now.” His lips turned down. He hissed as I dabbed on the antiseptic but I just ignored him and got on with it. “Are you hurt anywhere else.

“Just bruises.” He replied softly, gesturing to his face, where his cheekbone was a distinct mottled purple. “I'll heal. I don't mind them.” The expression on his face told me that wasn't strictly true but I didn't say a word, just zipped up the first aid kit and set it aside.

“I'll make us dinner.”

 

He clung to me throughout the entire cooking process, pressed up against my back, his hands at my waist, occasionally straying down to my hips until I cleared my throat and he drew them away with a sheepish but completely unapologetic smile. It was inconvenient. But we made it work. I have no idea how.

I was just pleased to once more be gifted with the more open, playful side of Taehyung.

He nudged me with his toes beneath the table. The first time he did it, I jumped so violently I whacked my knee on the table and jostled our plates. When I looked up, his lips were pressed tight together but there was no mistaking the twinkle of mirth in his eyes.

I found myself breathless, just staring at him. _That bruise does nothing to hide his delicate beauty._ And when he smiled, he smiled with his entire body, unable to sit still, needing to express his joy. It was kind of strange and childish but incredibly endearing.

When we moved out to the living room, he basically sat in my lap, despite my best protests, insisting that I hold his hand as he flicked through the channels. He put on some film that I didn't care for and settled against me, one leg slung over and between mine. I couldn't complain. He was warm.

I lost myself in the film, so much so that when Taehyung suddenly shifted over and straddled my lap, I started, looking up at him with mild alarm. His hair, now dry and illuminated from behind, fanned out around his face in a fluffy halo.

“Hyung,” was all he said before he leaned in. I blinked – weren't we just watching a movie? He leaned closer and closer, caging me in with his arms, until our foreheads touched. His eyelashes fluttered, the tips just brushing across my cheeks as he pressed his lips to mine.

I froze.

He pulled back with a disappointed whine in his throat and I wanted his mouth back on mine immediately.

“Are you uncomfortable?” He asked, starting to get up. I tugged him back down.

“No,” I breathed, “I was just surprised.” I wondered if he only liked me because I'd shown him kindness, but I pushed those thoughts away as he shifted closer again, leaning into me. “Would you like to kiss me again?” He nodded, breathing deeply and then kissed me, lingering with his lips slightly parted against mine. I wrapped my arms loosely around his waist, pecked his lips to urge him on. In that moment, it felt like he belonged with me, that his body was only meant to be beside mine. His hands slid into my hair as he kissed me harder and…

 

I was even more reluctant than usual to let him go in the morning when I woke up in my bed, his long limbs wrapped around me, cocooning me in warmth. In retrospect, I probably shouldn't have slept with him but I didn't regret it. No, I'd enjoyed it too much for that and I desperately hoped he had too, but I'd never say it.

I shifted in his hold and was rewarded by the sight of him waking up. It was adorable. His eyes blinked open slowly and his mouth opened in a tiny yawn. He let go of me, arching his back as he stretched out his arms. He gazed at me in sleepy satisfaction for a few moments before he seemed to remember something, his eyes suddenly opening wide.

“Shit.” He cursed under his breath, started wriggling away in a panic. I sat up slowly, watching him struggle out of the bed, dropping to the floor with a whine.

“What's wrong, Tae?” My voice came out slurred with sleep as he searched the floor for Namjoon’s clothes. Was it me? Was it waking up _naked_ next to me?

“I forgot, I have to be somewhere today.” He pulled on a pair of my boxers. I didn't point out his error.

“Do you regret having sex with me, Tae?” I couldn't really think of another reason he would be in such a hurry to leave. He froze for a moment and turned to me, shocked, his cheeks bright pink.

“O-of c-course not, hyu-ung!” He stuttered, pausing to pull Namjoon’s shirt over his head. “I just really have to be somewhere like, right now.” I considered him, he seemed sincere. He _looked_ sincere, if also very embarrassed.

“You don't even know what time it is.” I tried and he made an odd choked whining sound in his throat as he started wriggling into his own ripped and bloodied jeans from the day before. He looked up after a moment, zipped and buttoned his jeans, and crossed back to the bed. He crawled towards me, face earnest.

“I'm not trying to run away from you.” He said. I completely failed to control my expression, disbelief creeping onto my face. “Really, I'm not.” He sighed. “Alright hyung, let's swap numbers and then you can bug me if you like.” He pottered off to retrieve our phones from where we'd abandoned them in the living room last night. He dropped them in my lap and then sat in front of me like a proud dog presenting me with his latest find.

I unlocked my phone and opened a new contact, watching closely as he entered his details. His surname was Kim. Huh. Could have done with that information a while back. As soon as he handed my phone back, I texted him, waiting until I heard his phone chime.

“You have my number now.” He nodded, pocketing his phone and started to get up. Then he paused, eyes on me, curious. Before I'd truly registered what he was doing, he'd leant in and kissed me and then fled through the door.

I turned over and snuggled back down but I'd didn't sleep.

He didn't text me back for two days.

 

Taehyung's texts were weird and often made very little sense. They were also invariably sent at antisocial hours. I absently wondered if he actually knew how to type or even remotely understood texting norms. But we managed. I saw him a couple more times with Namjoon, at Namjoon’s place, and one of those days, I finally persuaded him to explain his entirely nonsensical system of abbreviations. It didn't actually help that much.

But I suppose I found those bizarre texts endearing all the same. Plus Namjoon was pretty decent at translating them into something understandable.

I didn't tell Namjoon that I slept with Taehyung, not then, but I think he worked it out all the same. It was always hard to keep things from Namjoon.

That or Taehyung told him.

In all honesty, I was surprised that he didn't yell at me for it. Or worse. I thought he'd skin me.

 

I spotted the kid in town once, looking lost and out of place. When he caught sight of me, his nervous disposition only seemed to worsen and I couldn't help but wonder what had him so very uptight this time. It was only 11am.

He didn't seem to have been beaten, but he looked defeated – no, scared. And even more flighty than usual. I didn't think that was possible. His gaze didn't meet mine for more than a fraction of a second before he was glancing somewhere else. At the time, I thought I saw him shaking.

I raised a hand to wave.

He had an urgent look in his eyes, like he had something to tell me and it had to be now. He started to move towards me, arms wrapped around his waist, but it was then that someone flung themselves at me.

I went down with a startled yelp, arms flailing. Somehow, I managed not to hit my head on the ground as I fell, mind reeling, another body tumbling down on top of me, elbowing me in the gut.

“Yoongi!” A cheerful, familiar voice chimed. Seokjin. He rolled off me and climbed to his feet before extending a hand to help me up, an apologetic smile on his face. I accepted the hand gratefully, looking across the street for that nervous figure, but he was gone. I couldn't see him anywhere.

I hoped it wasn't too important, whatever he was worrying about.

As always, I didn't ask.

 

He stopped responding to my texts after that day. Namjoon’s too, I discovered when I asked him. It worried me. He didn't come by Namjoon’s place anymore, and it was even longer since he'd been by mine. The last time had been when we woke up together.

It scared me, not being able to get hold of him. Namjoon and I scouted all the places we knew he might go but he was at none of them.

I tried phoning him and discovered that he'd cancelled that number; all my texts had been disappearing into the void for who knows how long.

I couldn't stop worrying.

 

Perhaps that was why, when an unknown number called me, late at night when I'd just got home after a shift, I picked up. It was on a whim, a shot in the dark, but I couldn't help but hope.

“Yoongi hyung?” I took in a sharp breath, almost dropped the phone because _it was Taehyung!_ He sounded strange, his voice was thick and uneven, but it was Taehyung alright. “Hyung, I- Yoongi…” He sobbed, the sound muffled and pained and my heart dropped.

“Taehyung,” all the worry that I'd been keeping in came back to the fore, I sounded panicky. I _was_ panicky; he sounded so scared. “Are you crying? What's wrong?” He tried to talk but the words came out in a jumble as I stood frozen in my hallway, still in my scrubs from work. “Take a deep breath, Tae. Some deep breaths and then try again.” It almost felt like being at work as I reminded him to breath, to calm down enough to talk to me.

“Yoongi, I-I stabbed someone.” I shivered, actually shivered. Not because I didn't believe him, but because I did. I could imagine the jittery teen - so often injured - with his hands stained with another’s blood, I could picture it. And I didn't like the images my mind was throwing up. I couldn't form words and so he rambled on without me to interrupt him. “He a-a-attacked Mina. He grabbed her by the throat to choke her and I didn't know how else to stop him. So I hit him with a bottle. You know, I did it before and messed up – got my hands full of glass - but this time it worked. I-I, well, I stabbed him. It was – it was…” He paused, tried to regulate his breathing, failed and carried on. At some point I'd stumbled sideways against the wall and was now sliding slowly down to the floor as my knees gave out. “Necessary.” He let out a shuddering breath and I closed my eyes. Did this come under self defence? Maybe. Technically the guy had used a level of force that could result in death and Taehyung had responded in kind. I voiced that thought but the kid scoffed at me. “I stabbed him a lot hyung, over and over until his stomach was a bloody mess.” A hysterical laugh slipped out of him and I felt every last drop of warmth leave my body.

“Tae-“ I began to say but he spoke over me.

“Don't hyung. He begged me. He cried. And then he lay still, hyung. It was defence. But it was overboard.” Another strange mix between sobbing and laughter. I was stunned into silence once more. “Hyung I.. Help me.” He pleaded and I had no idea what to do, what to say, how to even begin to think about this.

“Phone the police.” I said. It was the first thought that came to mind. He made a strangled noise before he replied, voice so low I could barely hear him.

“I did.” He said, his voice was small and frightened all over again. “I did, with Mina’s phone. I gave it to her and then I ran. I don't want to get arrested. I can't. I can't, the gang will kick me out. I can't-” He was getting hysterical all over again, high pitched whines replacing his speech.

“You need to breathe.” I said. He tried. “Where are you?” I was leaving my house before he'd even told me, putting him on speaker as soon as I'd shut the door of my car. I was still in my scrubs, I needed a shower and a change of clothes and a good night’s sleep but I wasn't going to get any of those things. As soon as he'd told me I started driving.

I wasn't remotely safe.

 

He told me he was at the docks. One of the warehouses wasn't used and he'd hidden himself in there – he couldn't go anywhere covered in blood and scared. I didn't know what I was feeling. Looking back, I suppose it was a mixture of fear, resignation and blind hope. That he'd be there, that I could comfort him ( _was that really appropriate?_ ) and calm him down. I didn't for one moment stop to think about the fact that the kid had just confessed to me that he'd attacked and potentially killed someone. Until I got there.

I yanked open the door to the warehouse and moved inside, stepping carefully although my blood was pounding in my ears and my nerves were so strung out I probably would have fainted at any sudden noise. I wanted to run about but I didn't want to startle Taehyung. Not in the state I assumed he was in. Who knew how he'd react?

He wasn't there.

I searched the entire building. Found some smears and spatters of reasonably fresh blood – they made me feel sick to the core.

I phoned him but his phone was off.

 

The next few days were spent panicking.

 

He killed himself.

That's what Hoseok said - that guy who'd turned up at the hospital that day when Tae came in. We were never quite sure how he found us. But he turned up at Namjoon’s, wanting help and wanting to talk about Taehyung, and Namjoon phoned me.

Of course he did.

The guy said the reason I couldn't find Taehyung was because he'd been with Hoseok. He had also gone searching for him and found him first. Hoseok hadn't known what to do any more than I did and Taehyung, although he’d seemed to calm down at first, had become increasingly hysterical as the hours stretched on and on. The following afternoon, he ran.

Hoseok had had his own suspicions about where the kid had gone and managed to track him down back at the docks, finding him standing at the top of the scaffolding, beautifully silhouetted against the orange of the sun sinking below the horizon. Hoseok had to squint to properly see him, and shield his eyes with his hands. As he watched, Taehyung took a step back and Hoseok shouted for him.

Taehyung ran, launching himself forwards, only appearing to hear Hoseok at the last minute. He twisted in the air, seeming to look at Hoseok as he plummeted towards the icy water below. But, even if he had changed his mind, it was too late.

Hoseok had phoned the emergency services, barely coherent as he tried to explain.

They never found his body.

 

I was numb. I sat and stared and the place where Hoseok had been sitting long after he'd left. I wouldn't move, wouldn't talk to Namjoon, so he wrapped me in a blanket and sat at the other end of the sofa, waiting.

“That was true.” I said, eventually, feeling strangely hollow inside. I didn't know how to hold myself, suddenly my limbs felt awkward, too long, kind of like they weren't a part of me. I gazed down at my hands. “That was true and Taehyung is gone.” I whispered. Trying to think it through, trying to understand. But I couldn't. Namjoon nodded, face pale and drawn, eyes red from crying earlier.

I crawled across to him, still unable to react. Like I had done for Taehyung, he allowed me to hold onto him, to ground myself as I buried my face in his chest. I have no idea how long we stayed there.

The tears that I had expected never came.

 

It stayed, that odd numbness. I was distraught but I couldn't show it. The tears wouldn't come even though I needed to cry, needed the release. Needed to acknowledge that the skinny, agitated teen I had become so close to in a matter of months wouldn't be around anymore. He wasn't going to turn up at my door with new bruises and scrapes anymore. Namjoon wouldn't bring him around with a silly excuse that was code for ‘I know you like him’. I would never kiss him, touch him, smile at him, or receive a stupid, incoherent text from him at two am again.

I threw the plate of food I'd been holding across the kitchen. It hit a cupboard on the other side of the room and shattered, sharp shards flying in every direction as the food fell in a disgusting messy arc. I growled in frustration but still the tears didn't come.

I felt guilty for not being able to cry.

 

I only agreed to meet one of Namjoon’s new self assigned charges because he bugged me constantly. I knew he was worried. I ate, slept and worked. The third in excess and the other two, far too little. I couldn't act normal. Except at work. For some reason, it helped me. But even my colleagues were worried about me; even though I hadn't told them, they knew something was off.

I made an effort to look presentable. Actually properly cleaned my apartment for the first time since Tae… I couldn't even finish the thought. I found some of his things as I did. The t-shirt and boxers he'd left the night we slept together. I'd cleaned them, but never given them back. I also found various miscellaneous items that he'd left about the place. He was always picking up ‘interesting things’ – a rock that looked like it had a face, a single card (the eight of clubs), a set of rosary beads someone had dropped – and bringing them to show to me and then leaving them behind when he lost interest.

I found myself smiling a little as I collected the items, putting them into a box. I didn't know when the last time I'd smiled was. Work didn't count; a reassuring smile for a patient here, a cheeky grin at an injured child there, a polite, sympathetic smile shared with a coworker… They were all too easily faked. This smile was genuine. I could almost feel that overwhelming numbness beginning to soften.

I placed the box on the table in the living room just as the door bell rang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *nervous laughter*  
> Sorry about this ^^;
> 
> It's 100% King Yoongi's fault for being an amazing editor OTL  
> Nahhhhh I'm just a cruel author ^^;  
> I'm sorry Yoongi...


	2. Epilogue

The kid standing just behind Namjoon looked nervous, kind of like another boy I used to know. I felt a pang of… something as I beckoned them inside and closed the door behind them, sighing inwardly.

Was it remorse? Regret? Hope?

Namjoon ushered the kid into the living room. The boy moved with a grace Taehyung had never had, slim but not underfed. His hair was shorter, black and better kept. I walked in behind them, looking curiously at the kid even though it hurt my heart a little. Despite the differences, there was something unshakeably Taehyung-like about him. When I finally got a proper look at his face, I realised.

It was his eyes.

They were wide and dark, shadows beneath them hinting at a lack a sleep that I didn't yet know the cause of. They were open and trusting and yet simultaneously filled with fear and trepidation. He couldn't hold my gaze, subconsciously stepping closer to the familiar figure of Namjoon as I observed him closely.

Namjoon laid a hand on his shoulder, encouraging the kid to introduce himself. He was too nervous. Namjoon leant closer, said some words that triggered something in me after so long.

_Yoongi hyung isn’t going to judge you._

"Tae." I whispered, completing the sentence, and the kid’s lost expression was almost exactly alike to the face Taehyung pulled when he didn't understand something.

Finally, I lost it; I started crying.

“Yoongi-ssi!” The kid cried out in alarm and rushed forwards, then stopped, unsure, just in front of me. I reached out to him and pulled him close, his alarm only growing. But I couldn't stop. I couldn't calm down. I couldn’t let go. _I couldn't think._ Eventually he wrapped his arms around me and moved me to sit on one of my own sofas, allowing me to lean against him, to cling to him. I didn't even know the kid’s name.

“This is Jungkook.” Namjoon said as he sat on my other side, always good at reading me.

“Why did you bring him to me?” I asked, between sobs, feeling the kid momentarily stiffen in my arms, but I only tightened my grip on him. He was as tall as Taehyung but not as bony. Softer, warmer. Different. The way he held me wasn't the same. But he was a painful reminder of what I'd lost.

“I think you'll be good for each other.” He said. I didn't respond; I didn't know how. “It's good that you're finally able to cry.” I supposed that I could agree with that.

“I'm sorry.” I murmured where my face was squished into Jungkook’s side. “You remind me of someone that I lost.”

“It's okay.” He responded. “You remind me of someone too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3  
> Thank you for the kudos! Thank you for you time <3


End file.
